


Relationship status: Druid

by window_to_the_soul



Category: The Iron Druid Chronicles - Kevin Hearne
Genre: M/M, PWP, Porn with some plot, Thralls, but not really, possibly slightly dub-con, vampires are evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7045237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/window_to_the_soul/pseuds/window_to_the_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this, and then a friend of mine said: "Hey, this is like the Iron Druid Chronicles. Only gay." 'Nuff said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relationship status: Druid

I was meditating when I first felt their presence. It was a slow, menacing pulse that vibrated deep within the earth, a tone and feeling so wrong I had to focus on keeping my calm. Vampires. They’re always the worst. I didn’t open my eyes, just felt their aura infuse the ground around them, sucking away at the life energy. Inhale, exhale. Sunshine burned hot on my skin, and the spirit that resided deep within the ground whined softly. Spirits, especially those of the elements, cannot communicate like humans do. They can, however, produce images that translate to meaning in our minds, if only we are willing to listen. The spirit whose land I was sitting on, cross-legged and naked, was called Sonora, and I quite liked conversing with her. Feeling her pain was – upsetting. 

“Hey, flower boy!” Even their voices were disgusting. I don’t like vampires. Mostly because they’re dead and don’t stay in the ground where they rightfully belong, but there were other reasons, too. Like how they sucked the life out of everything around them by just existing. Or like how they thought they were better than everyone else. Occasionally also because they were glittering. I didn’t answer. They were not worth any part of my attention. Instead, I focused on the plants that had been weakened, and the animals they’d hurt. 

“He’s sort of cute,” another of the vampires commented. There were four of them, but none was older than about three or four weeks. Which meant an older, more powerful vampire was trying to take over my turf. Again. I sighed softly when I felt the creosote bushes straighten their leaves. 

“Oh, c’mon, Ned. You don’t even like red-heads!” They circled me, slowly. Sonora protested and wanted to act in my defense, but it was easy to shush her. 

_/Peace/Calm/Power/_ I told her, concepts she could understand. Don’t worry, I’m stronger than they are. Sonora shuddered under my feet. 

“I do like tattoos,” Ned said. 

“I don’t like vampires,” I told them. Seemed like my meditation would have to wait for another time. I opened my eyes. The vampires were standing tall, blocking out the sunlight, and, fortunately, not glittering. Had they been glittering, I would have killed them on the spot. 

“He can talk!” The first vampire that had spoken was, apparently, delighted. “I like it when they talk!” Stupid. Too young. His hair was graying already; he had clearly been wasting his resources. I slowly shook my head. He wouldn’t make it long. His jeans were bloody, his eyes bloodshot. The one he had called Ned looked marginally better. His hair was still a light shade of blond, and his eyes deeply blue. He might’ve made it. 

“If you leave now, I will not tell your master.” Oh, and Joshuach, the resident vampire lord, would be furious. He lived one town over and knew better than to encroach on my territory. 

“Look, flower boy’s trying to threaten us!” Ned exclaimed happily and made as if to ruffle my hair. I got up faster than he could blink, a fluid movement aided by a small push from Sonora, the spirit of the desert here in Arizona.

“My name,” I said softly, still not looking threatening in the least, “is Máedóc.” Not that they would recognize it. 

“Maddock? Again, that’s sort of cute. Should that mean something to us?” The other two vampires that had yet to speak started laughing throatily. 

“Not Maddock,” I sighed. But what was I expecting? Nowadays, nobody would know old Celtic names anymore. “Máedóc. Not that it matters. You’re really not leaving, are you?” Ned shrugged. 

“Hell no. At least not until we’ve had a little fun with you, flower boy. I hear druids taste real good.” 

“Yeah, right,” I replied. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Shaking my head, I turned around and made to leave. “Beacan, they’re all yours.” I didn’t wait around to hear the vampires die.

My familiar is a robin. Not that it sounds like much, especially since Beacan is, per definition, really small. But he is also what you might call a “gryphinx”. Half cat, half robin in his original form, and turns into a griffin-like animal the size of a leopard if he wants to. Usually, he just looks like a robin that wears a black beaded necklace around his neck. Now, he took his original form and tore into the screaming vampires. It didn’t take long, and by the time I had made it back inside my house to look for my clothes, the screams had died down to low gurgling. I picked up the clothes I had left on my front porch and shrugged into a long-sleeved shirt that would cover the tattoos on my arms and torso. I have sensitive neighbors, and I doubt they would like to see their herb-brewing, children-teaching neighbor beating vampires to a pulp. Naked. So, clothes it was. My jeans took a while longer, but by the time I had made it back to my back yard, Beacan was gnawing on something that might have once been a head. I sighed. 

“Need to talk to Joshuach again.” And Heaven knew I hated the bastard. “Don’t eat that.” Beacan looked up at me with his big, black eyes and demonstratively bit an ear off. Gross. Well, at least Sonora was happy. She tolerated the vampires in the big cities – barely – but out here? Well, she had me to take care of problems like these. I am, as Ned, the now really-dead vampire has so helpfully pointed out, a druid. I sell herbs I grow in my backyard in the afternoon, and in the morning I teach sports at the local elementary school. The kids love me, and I love the kids. And I didn’t want any of them to be bitten by wayward vampires.   
The phone rang three times before the head of the vampire coven of Phoenix, Joshuach, deigned to pick it up. 

“Reilly?” he said in his dark, smooth voice. 

“Joshuach, this is Máedóc. I’ve had to dispatch of some – youngsters, today. You should really keep them on a shorter leash.” For a heartbeat, there was silence on the other end. I _had_ just implied that the _almighty king_ couldn’t control his babies. 

“Who were they?” Joshuach sounded almost pained. I stopped my pacing in the living room and tilted my head. Why would he care? So few survived his bite, but usually he at least knew who had and who didn’t… 

“I didn’t wait long enough to find out their names. A tall, gray-haired one, a shorter blond one called Ned, and two tall, dark and handsomes.” I heard Joshuach inhale loudly. 

“They’re not mine,” he said. 

“Bull,” I replied. “All vampires around here are yours.” They were. Everything else would be – worrisome. 

“I’m coming over.” What?

“No, you’re not.” 

“I am.” He wouldn’t dare.

“No, you’re really not. You won’t hurt my people, or my place. You _will not_ , or I will hunt you down and I will kill you. Don’t think for a second that I won’t.” _That_ was a threat. I didn’t need Joshuach here. More importantly, I couldn’t deal with it. Not after his last “visit”. Nuh-uh, not happening. 

“Máedóc – ” I shook my head vehemently, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“Set one foot on my turf, and you will sign your own death warrant. But if you absolutely have to see me, or those dead bodies, I will come to Phoenix and – ” And what? Deliver them? I shook my head again, “ – and bring them to the cemetery.” I could do that. Hopefully. Joshuach sighed. 

“Fine, if you absolutely don’t want to see me…” 

“I have no problem seeing you. I would just prefer it if I had your head on a spear, first.” Joshuach had once, when we had both been younger (and more stupid), killed something that was mine. Something I had held very dearly, something I – Ah, it doesn’t matter now. We have a truce, nowadays, but I don’t want to see him more often than absolutely necessary. He respects it, most of the time. 

“Fine,” Joshuach sighed, and he sounded like a weary parent. “I will take the bodies you – mangled. But know that they are really not mine. There have been problems, lately.” Problems, I though dubiously. Must have been one hell of a problem, if Joshuach was admitting to it. I frowned. Why hadn’t I heard of it? Usually, Sonora tells me about anything supernatural enough that could cause me trouble. 

“…Problems?” 

“None of your business.” Alrighty, then. 

“Goodbye, Joshuach,” I said. 

“Goodbye, Méadóc.” The only redeeming quality was that the fucking vampire could correctly pronounce my name. And I, his, but mostly because he tends to behead people who mispronounce it. I have learned to live with “Maddock”. I put the phone down and looked at Beacan, who had carried bits of vampire ear inside. 

“Joshua?” Beacon asked. I nodded. “Idiot.” He has trouble with human sounds, his beak is really not made for speaking, but he does try. I smiled and patted his head. 

“He is. We’ll give him the vampires he insists aren’t his back later. First, I need to have a chat with Sonora.” Beacan tilted his head at me and turned back into a robin to sit on my shoulder. I felt the magic I had woven into the beads around his neck tug at mine; then the air around the gryphinx seemed to shrug, fold and then spit out a robin. Beacan ruffled his feathers and spit the ear to my feet. Ew. 

~

I smiled at Miss Greyser when I went back to my garden. She was hanging up laundry, her long, blonde hair fluttering in the hot summer’s breeze. 

“How’s Mel?” I called, then bent down to mask the three corpses on my lawn with a simple spell. For an outsider without the ability to see the magic planes, it would just seem like I had three really big mole hills right next to the creosote bushes I kept near the fence. 

“She’s doing great!” Miss Greyser replied. She has lived next to me for a long time now with her daughter Mel, but no husband. At least she’s never mentioned one to me. And I don’t pry. “She went to softball practice yesterday, and the coach thinks about letting her play in the next game!” A proud mother. 

“Congratulations. Tell Mel I’m proud of her, too. Where is the little minx?” 

“At my sister’s. And where’s that handsome man I saw hanging around your place last week?” I blinked over the fence. Handsome…? 

“I’m sorry?” Who was she talking about? I hadn’t had any visitors to my place in months, let alone ones I’d let my neighbors see. One-night-stands, sometimes, yes, but… 

“You two looked quite the couple,” Miss Geyser said and deepened my confusion. Just who was she talking about? 

“Uhm…” What else could I say? Miss Geyser stopped in the middle of putting up a green duvet and moved around it to look at me. 

“Are you alright, Mister Callaghan?” 

“Don’t worry,” I told her weakly. What else was there to say? 

“Has he broken your heart?” Now she sounded really worried. And, truth be told, so was I. I usually remember the people I bring home. It’s just not like me to not know… and it made me slightly nervous. It is, as a general rule, really difficult to drug druids, mostly because we stay in tune with nature, and it’s really hard to slip something in the drink of a person who knows what plants it’s supposed to be made of and who can taste each and every one. “He looked nice enough,” Miss Geyser continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “With these broad shoulders and dark hair. Right up your alley, isn’t it? Even I wouldn’t have turned someone like that down. And you were kissing so – hach!” Kissing? 

“I – I need to go!” I called, a bit desperately, and ran back to my house. Beacan chirped angrily when the wind knocked him off my shoulder, but I ignored it. “Forgot something!” I have no idea if she heard me, and in that moment, frankly, I didn’t care. Somebody had apparently been here. Had even gone so far as kissing me, and I couldn’t remember. None of it. My mind drew a complete blank. The most confusing thing was that there were no gaps in my memories. Nothing to suggest drugging or magic or _anything_. Who could, and would, do that to me? I have enemies, everyone who lives as long as I do, does. But I had been careful. Nobody from my old life even knew I was here, except – except Joshuach. I came to an abrupt halt. He wouldn’t. He’d promised – but then again, he had broken his word once before. 

“Beacan,” I whispered. The robin, sensing my fear, landed on my shoulder again and tickled my ear with one small wing. “What’s going on?” 

~

I took the car up to Phoenix. It took less than half an hour. Joshuach’s residence was huge, a mansion, really, with three wings and two stories. The façade was fairly simple, cream-colored and with small windows, and the roof high and deep crimson. It looked European, but Joshuach had originally been German, and Jewish. When you live as long as we do, you take comfort wherever you can. Next to me, Beacan, in his original form, hissed at the main gates. I rang the bell, fury burning in my stomach. I had, once again and foolishly, trusted the bastard. He would pay. He would. I closed my eyes. Joshuach would pay. I had enough reason left in me to not want to hurt his human servants. I rang the doorbell. 

“This is Máedóc Callaghan. Either you open this door, or I will tear it down,” I said into the small microphone next to a speaker when a voice inquired about my dealings with Mister Reilly. My voice sounded scary even to my own ears. Beacan screamed in agreement. 

“The master will see you shortly.” To hell with shortly. I loosened the connection between the gate’s bars and the frame, and it clattered uselessly to the ground. Stepping over it, I made my way towards the mansion. Pebbles crunched beneath my shoes, and I had just started to work on the wood of the front door when it opened. Joshuach was standing there, hands tightened to fists, eyes narrowed. Good. 

“You,” I hissed. “Fucking bastard!” My voice rose with each syllable. “Who did you tell?!” I was screaming by then. Joshuach waited in the shades – he couldn’t let the sun touch his skin, or it would burn. 

“Máedóc,” he said. “What brings you to my – ” He didn’t get any farther, because I slammed right into him. Sonora had given me a push again, and I jumped right into him. We crashed through the door, wood everywhere, and my fist connected with a solid jaw. It wouldn’t break, but I had not aimed to, either. I just wanted to scramble Joshuach’s brains a bit, so it would take him some time to retaliate. Vampires, especially old ones, are _fast_. Beacan was on Joshuach’s arms in seconds and held on tight. Dark red blood welled from between his sharp claws, and I saw with some satisfaction that the vampire’s eyes clouded with pain for a second. I used it to kick him in the nuts, which made him groan. The next hit I aimed at Joshuach’s hips to immobilize him by breaking them, but he moved faster than I could. Suddenly, I was on my back on the floor, and fangs only inches from my aorta. I, and Beacan, froze. 

“Would you be so kind as to inform me,” Joshuach breathed against my skin, “what you are doing?” He still sounded so fucking cool. Goosebumps rolled over my skin in revulsion. And I couldn’t move, not yet, or my life would be done with. 

“Someone came,” I hissed, “someone powerful enough to trick my mind.” To my surprise, Joshuach jumped back as if I had burned him. I scrambled to my feet and stared at him. “Joshuach?” 

“What did they do?” I frowned. He sounded almost – worried. For me? As if…

“What is it to you? Why did you betray me?!” Joshuach shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t. You made it very clear that you’re only tolerating me here as long as I ‘behave’.” 

“Oh, right, so some random powerful entity just decided to take me out?” 

“If they wanted you, and managed to trick you, shouldn’t you be dead already?” That brought me up short. Because the bastard was right, of course. “Before you try and hurt me again, please consider coming in and listening. It seems we have the same problem.” 

“Oh, so you’ve been kissed by some stranger, too, and don’t remember it?” Whoops, shouldn’t have said that out loud. Joshuach narrowed his dark, red eyes at me and stood tall. 

“You what?” Um… He looked sort of menacing in his suit and tie, all proper until I and Beacan had ruined it. I shrugged it off. 

“I have no gaps in my memory, but my neighbor clearly remembers seeing – ” Joshuach’s fingers dug into my arms. 

“You’ve been kissed?” Why was he so hung up about this? 

“I told you, I don’t remember!” Beacan was eying him distrustingly again. Good boy, I thought, and tried to get away from the vampire’s grasp. 

“But you have a witness that says so, yes?” 

“Yes! I keep telling you! Who did you tell I’m here?!” He swore in German. 

“Come in,” Joshuach finally swapped into a language I could understand, and then just sort of dragged me behind him. I should’ve probably fought him on it, but he seemed caught somewhere between furious and excited, and one should not take risks with vampires. I was fairly certain that I could beat him in a fight, and that I could free myself if I so desired. But. Something had the vampire coven’s head’s panties in a twist, and I would really like to know what. So I followed him, and Beacan trotted behind us, unsure whether to appear threatening or cute.

“I thought they might not have been after me. Good, that is good. You can take care of yourself. But not like this. Never like this, I promised…” Joshuach wasn’t making sense, and I told him as much when we arrived in his study. I had been here once or twice before, on special occasions like when our truce had been signed. I didn’t much like it, but it wasn’t my place to judge. Joshuach sat down heavily behind an old wooden desk and motioned for me to sit on a chair to his opposite. I did as I was told, for once. I had come here furious, but it was evident that Joshuach was not the guilty party for once. He had information, though, information I needed. 

“There’s shifters in Phoenix,” he said without preamble. I frowned. 

“Shapeshifters?” Joshuach waved a hand. 

“Do you know any other kind?” 

“Well, no, but…” Shapeshifters were rarely a problem. They tended to stick to themselves, sometimes ate a vampire or two. I didn’t think they could do magic at all, let alone one powerful enough so I wouldn’t detect it. 

“They’ve caused trouble in one or two of my nightclubs,” Joshuach offered. My frown deepened. 

“That doesn’t make them responsible for me not remembering anything. Who says it was even – ”

“Will you let me finish, please?” I was going to strangle him. Later, after he’d told me everything he knew. “They have a witcher.” I shivered. Witchers are like evil druids, they take from mother earth and give nothing back, they influence plants and life and twist human souls. And I only knew one witcher that was powerful enough to not have died over the years. 

“Conrad,” I whispered. Joshuach nodded. 

“I think so.” 

“Why the shifters?” 

“The pack was small when they came here. I think Con has taken over as their alpha when he killed the old one. They’re coyotes, so not very strong at all, just fuck like bunnies, but…” Conrad was a freaking huge “but”. It meant I needed help. And so did Joshuach. 

“Can you prove that it’s Conrad?” I asked. Joshuach shook his head, dark hair fluttering around his face. 

“I cannot. It’s just a- a hunch.” 

“Well, fuck me sideways.” The vampire lifted an eyebrow. 

“Is that an invitation?” 

“Do I look like I want a piece of dead meat?” He laughed drily. 

“Touché. What would you like to do? If it was Conrad who kissed you…” Yeah, then I was in a whole lot of trouble. And not the fun kind, either.

“I’m going to one of your clubs,” I told him. “One where he would go. I can take Con.” I had done so before. Joshuach was clearly not convinced. 

“He fooled you before.” I shrugged. 

“I was unprepared. That won’t happen again.”

~

Vampire nightclubs suck. Quite literally, if you would pardon the pun. Whenever I came close to another dancer, I had to fight the urge to wrap my own hands around my neck to protect it. The undead presences were making me feel queasy, and the outfit Joshuach had chosen for me did not help, either. See, I usually don’t frequent clubs that deal in the sort of shit vampires are into. For me, when it comes to sex, I want no blood, no pain, and no restraints. But, if Conrad was really here, he needed to be taken care of. So I stood there, clad in tight leather and wearing a collar, and felt rather stupid. Music was pounding with heavy bass, making the air vibrate; it smelled of sweat, humans, and blood. It was absolutely and utterly awful. Standing there on the dancefloor, only swaying to the tune, I tried to find the one shape I would instantly recognize as Conrad’s. And he would know me, too. He had marked me with a kiss, as it would seem. Not that I am averse to being kissed, quite the contrary. But not by Conrad. 

We used to be friends, me, Conrad and Joshuach. An old archdruid had found us across the world, me here in Arizona, Joshuach in Germany and Conrad in the United Kingdom. We were his apprentices, and I loved both of them dearly. Joshuach had – and has still – a quick mind and the manners of a nobleman, he is handsome and rather protective. Conrad, on the other hand, had been active, direct and without shame. I fit somewhere between those two. I was stronger than both of them, magically and, in Conrad’s case, physically also, but gentler. I hate violence, and all I ever wanted was to help. I can do that, here. We were lovers, too. Not all at the same time, but… Anyway, the day it all went wrong was the day we got our familiars. I called a small dragon, and was content. It had barely been the size of my palm, with elegantly feathered wings in the colours of the rainbow. Joshuach called an otter, and he found it hilarious. And Conrad, well, he called a raven. Ravens mean bad luck, death, darkness, and the archdruid took it from Conrad and then bound his magic abilities and chased him off. Joshuach and me were devastated, of course. We hunted him down, but when we found him, it was too late. We unsealed his powers, together, without realizing what he had done: He’d apprenticed himself to a witcher. Conrad burned and killed Joshuach’s otter, then threw me to the ground when I wanted to help and tied me to the earth. Joshuach was screaming, louder and in more pain than I have ever seen him be in. His otter was dead. And then Conrad – he bit Joshuach, made him a vampire somehow. After, I was the only one to return to the archdruid. He was devastated, and so was I. We functioned, but barely. As per the rules, we would’ve had to hunt Joshuach and Conrad both. We focused on Conrad, of course, so we didn’t see Joshuach coming. 

“Are you still dreaming, flower boy?” Cold shivers ran down my spine. I’d recognize that voice everywhere. 

“Conrad,” I forced out, “I see you’re still alive.” A dark chuckle tickled my neck. _How_ had he come so close? 

“Mhh, and so are you. Where’s your little friend?” I narrowed my eyes and whirled around. How dare he?! He looked good. Always had, always would. My fingernails bit into the skin of my palm. 

“Shut. Up,” I hissed at him, barely audible over the pounding of the music. 

“Still sore about it? And you haven’t even killed Josh yet…” I sucked in great big breaths, just to stay calm. Through the thick linoleum of the floor, I called for Sonora. “Ah-ah, that won’t help you, Máedóc.” It took all I had. Conrad used to be my friend. He used to be – The knife trembled in my hands when I buried it in his guts. Blood gushed over my fingers, and I looked at him, his red eyes, his… wait a second. Red eyes?  
About four things occurred to me at the same time. One, it was really damn stupid to have a showdown in a sexclub full of vampires with a built-in hatred for witchers. Two, Conrad always, always called me 

“Maddock”, he’d never gotten the hang of the old Irish name. Three, that was not enough blood for a gut wound designed to bleed him dry in seconds, and four, Joshuach was a sick, twisted bastard. 

“What were you _thinking_? Tricking me into thinking you were Conrad?!” I yelled at him, ignoring the blood. It wouldn’t kill him. Not yet, anyhow. Bloody vampire, ha. 

“You wouldn’t have – agreed… to coming…” Joshuach rasped. “And you look really good in leather… Such a –shame…” The form of Conrad twisted, and the vampire lord stood there, middle of the dance floor, with a knife protruding from his belly. I watched him slide down to the ground. Oh, right, silver knife. Should’ve remembered that. Served him right. Joshuach would bleed to death for this trick. He had gone too far. _Way_ too far. I turned around and made to leave. 

“Stupid, vampiric bastard. Fucking asshole…” I muttered. Nobody tried to stop me, because the vampires in here were very much aware that only my truce with Joshuach ensured their continued existence. I stood at the door. He would die there, alone and in pain. Fucking hell, I’m just too nice a person, I thought, turned around and went back to the man lying on the floor, pale, the beginnings of a blood rage burning in his eyes. 

“Tie him to a wall,” I told the nearest vampire. He made as if to protest, but the look in my eyes silenced him. “Tie him to a wall, or I _will_ let him bleed out and then murder every single vampire in this fucking room.” They did as I told them, barely able to restrain their master. Joshuach was old, older than even his closest associates would ever guess, and I knew what this reminded him of. He would be delirious and just batshit crazy in about, oh, half a minute. As soon as he was securely chained to a wall, I pulled the silver knife out and listened to his screams. They were the same. Still, after all these years, they were an echo of the pain he had felt when his otter died. I stood in front of him. Everything in me revolted against what I was going to do. Druids don’t save vampires. We kill them, because they are pain for the earth and the plants and they were dead and should stay underground. Nothing of that mattered. Joshuach had been a friend, still was, unfortunately. What he had been thinking, how mad he’d made me, none of it was important because the stupid bastard of a vampire was dying. I stepped closer to him, felt the heat of his blood touch my clothes and soak through them. I swallowed once, deeply, took another step and offered my neck to him. 

It hurt, but only for a second, when his teeth split my skin. 

“Oh, Lord,” I gasped when the pleasure came. I’d known about it, obviously. This was not the first time I’ve been bitten, not by far. A vampire’s bite is designed to bring pleasure, right up to the point where you die from blood loss, so that the victim doesn’t fight it. I knew, and it still took me by surprise. I remembered, but nothing could ever quite compare to the mix of revulsion and arousal that now coursed through my veins. A vampire’s gift. Joshuach’s lips were moving against my neck, lovingly almost, and he sucked and made content noises against my skin. 

“Máedóc,” he whispered when he came back enough to remember what he was doing. His fangs retracted, and my legs almost gave way, but I did take that step back, hand pressed against the open wound. I was fighting with everything I had not to step back and let him drink me dry. “What…?” 

“I won’t let you kill me.” But my voice was shaky. Fucking hell, I was stronger than that. I _was_. 

“I wouldn’t ever kill you, idiot,” Joshuach growled and pulled at the cuffs holding his hands to the wall. They held. “Why did you try to gut me?” 

“I thought you were Conrad!” Apparently, it came as a surprise to Joshuach that I really wanted to kill the other bastard. Heaven forbid I find normal friends. “Why did you trick me?” 

“You wouldn’t have let me bite you otherwise.” 

“Of course not!” Okay, I was having serious trouble comprehending the situation at this point, but it might have been from blood loss. “Why would I ever let you bite me? I hate vampires!” 

“See? _See_?!” Joshuach was pulling at his restraints, now. “I needed to, though! You were marked by a fucking shapeshifter!” 

“So?” What the hell. So the guy that had kissed me had not, after all, been Conrad. But I usually do remember shapeshifters. As I have mentioned, they have close to no magical abilities, aside from the obvious changing of shapes. 

“He’s a witcher. And a shapeshifter,” Joshuach explained, calmly. “And you should really come here again. That wound needs closing.” Yeah, not happening. 

“And how come I don’t remember any of it?” Joshuach stepped forward as much as his bonds allowed. 

“I deleted it from your memory. You fucking came to me, and you were crying, flower boy.” 

“Crying?” Was he making this shit up? I felt dizzy. 

“You said Conrad sent him, and that the shifter had been sent to mark you as prey. You came to me, because I know how this shit works and how to remove it. But you couldn’t stand the fucking thought of me – touching you. So you made up this insane plan to get you to agree to let me bite you.” Okay, this… sounded a hell of a lot like something I might do. Because the only way I would ever let Joshuach come close enough to let myself be bitten was when his life was in danger. But the prey mark, well, it couldn’t be removed by _just_ a vampire’s bite. 

“And now you expect me to roll over and spread my legs for you,” I guessed. Joshuach, the cocky bastard, nodded. Again, not gonna happen.

“I hate you, you realize this, right?” He nodded again. “And I will murder at least half of your coven for this shit?” Another nod. “Okay. How about _you_ spread your legs for _me_?” Joshuach lifted an eyebrow. I did not actually find the thought of sleeping with him all that alluring, but his poison was still in my system. Lust would really not be a problem, hatred for vampires be damned. I would survive the experience, and would probably also enjoy it. Also, the mental image of cool, inhumanly strong Joshuach bend over for me was one hell of a turn on. 

“If that’s what you want.” Oh Lord, and he even agreed to it. My vision swam before my eyes. “But you should really come here, because nothing’s gonna happen if you die of blood loss first.” I closed my eyes. I was really doing this, wasn’t I? Joshuach was the only bastard I trusted enough that I would let him infuse me with his magic to get rid of the prey mark. My life sucks, big time.

That was about the time I noticed that we had quite the audience. Around us, the other vampires had mostly stopped dancing and were staring at us. At me. Joshuach’s skin was cool to the touch, but his tongue lapping at my neck felt warm. The blood intake had closed the wound on his belly and given him a healthy flush when he looked at me again. 

“You’d really do it?” I asked, somewhat incredulous. The vampire shrugged. He was just standing there, hands fastened to the wall, exposing his chest and the tight pants he wore. The movement made the muscles on his torso shift, and I swallowed. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” Joshuach had probably aimed for nonchalant, but his voice cracked a little at the end. 

“…Why?” He rolled his eyes. 

“Will you ever stop talking? Just get on with it already!” I blinked. Impatient much? 

“We have an - audience.” It did deserve mention. 

“This is a sex club! Let them watch!” 

“You’d let them watch me fuck you?” Joshuach sighed, sounding very much put upon. 

“They won’t get any show at all if you don’t fucking get on with it! And who said you even want that?” Want what? My questioning expression must’ve tipped him off, because Joshuach shook his head in mock sadness. “You don’t actually want to fuck me, flower boy. You want me to take you. That is, in fact, the only reason I’m still tied to this wall. You’re scared you’d enjoy it.” He pulled on his cuffs for emphasis. 

“As if,” I spat. There was no way I would just – nope. 

“Prove it,” Joshuach said, and the bastard still sounded smug, while I had trouble thinking over the arousal in my pants. With an angry snarl I undid the bonds on his hands. Before I could even take a breath, Joshuach was on me. His lips locked with mine, furious, passionate, demanding. I narrowed my eyes at him, determined not to let him direct this. I insinuated one of my legs between his – when had this become a contest? – and pushed my knee right up against his groin. Joshuach moaned into my mouth, and I let him in. The sweet, slightly acrid taste of rot mixed with my own blood and made me shiver. His tongue chased mine, trying to lead and failing miserably. I pushed him back, and he let me (vampires are strong, if he didn’t want this, I wouldn’t stand a chance without magic), leaning against my chest for support, hands at my shoulders, holding on. We separated for only a moment to each gulp in some air, then his lips were on my neck again and he bit me. There was no pain this time. 

“Not fair,” I gasped, unable to prevent the moan from slipping out, “your poison…!” Around us, vampires cheered. Fucking hell, this was not happening. My cock was painfully hard, my mind filled with erotic images of me on my back, chained up to a bed, covered in blood and bite wounds and loving every second of it. Of me on my belly, panting and moaning helplessly as I pushed my ass higher, closer to Joshuach’s… I fought for my focus and projected my own set of mental images: Joshuach’s pale ass red from my handmarks, his cock dripping precum, his face contorted with pleasure as he begged for more. His arms and legs spread, bound to the sides of the same bed he’d imagined me in, my fingers up his ass and him practically howling with pleasure. I was getting to him, I could tell, but I myself was far from unaffected. I ripped my head aside, broke the connection, and was glad to see the smug grin had been wiped off of Joshuach’s face, too, replaced with the glazed-over look of lust. 

“Draw?” I asked, breathily, and ripped his head off my neck to kiss him again. His hands were around my back, ripping at my shirt, and I heard distant cat calls when my bare back was exposed. We really had an audience. 

“You’re just scared you’d lose,” Joshuach moaned against my lips. I was almost past caring for this obvious taunt. But only just. 

“Never,” I returned, a dark promise in my voice. I took hold of his stupid leather jacket and tore it open, then impatiently tugged his white shirt out of his pants. My smug grin was the only warning Joshuach got before I bit one of his nipples. His skin was warm, there, and he tasted of salt and man. 

“Máe-dóc…” My name was music on his lips, especially in that almost helpless whisper. Music was pounding all around us, and I sucked and bit the skin around his nipple and ground my hips against his to the rhythm of a heady beat. “Please…” That particular tone should have been a warning, but I took it as a plea and moved to his other nipple, my hands roaming over the vampire’s back. “Sorry.”   
I blinked in confusion, and then I was suddenly with my back against the fucking wall and cold handcuffs wrapped around my wrists. 

“Wha-? You bastard…!” I spat, but ended in a strangled moan when Joshuach got down to his knees in front of everyone and mouthed my cock through my jeans. Sticks and stones, I swear I saw stars for a second there. The heat, the sight of this powerful man on his knees for me almost undid me. I strained against my bonds, but to no avail – they’d held a vampire, they would hold a druid no problem. 

“Be quiet and think of America,” Joshuach advised. The vibration around my heated flesh felt heavenly, and I couldn’t help the moan falling from my lips. My head rocked back against the walls, and I was drowning in pleasure. The arousal built and built, and I wasn’t even undressed yet. I would come in my pants if he didn’t stop this in three – but stop Joshuach did, and his hand closed around my shaft with a powerful enough grip to hurt. 

“Bastard,” I hissed at him. 

“Admit defeat, and I’ll let you come,” Joshuach said and tilted his head at me, red eyes hazy with arousal. He wasn’t unaffected, and from this angle I could see his cock straining against the tight pants. I shook my head, not coherent enough for words. “You’ll regret it.” It didn’t sound quite like a warning, but apprehension got the better of me when Joshuach turned and said something I couldn’t understand to two of the vampires who were standing in a half circle around us. And then, louder, so that I would certainly hear: “Who wants a bite of the druid?” They were everywhere, and my mind didn’t stand a chance. I was bitten in my arms, the sensitive spot behind my knees, the chest, my belly. Never in any of the really important areas – none of the vampires was suicidal. Never where I wanted, needed to be touched the most. My cock felt about ready to burst when something cold slipped around it, and suddenly, I couldn’t come. Joshuach just stood there, watching, smiling at me with hunger in his eyes as I was writhing with arousal that I just couldn’t fight. His hand lay beneath my shaft, a presence I couldn’t ignore, but he didn’t move, just let his friends drink their fill and lick me and fill me with their poison. 

“Do you submit?” His voice was almost unaffected, but I heard the wavering in it. Was I submitting? Oh, who was I kidding?

“Y-yeah…” It came out as more of a sigh, but he heard it, and he shooed the other vampires off. They complained, but I didn’t hear it, because Joshuach was kissing me again, all male dominance, and this time, there wasn’t enough of my brains left to fight him on it. I melted into the kiss, giving what he was taking, swallowing and moaning and begging around his tongue. His touch burned my flesh, and his magic started to float through my body. I was shaking, only the cuffs held me upright, my knees wouldn’t support me. My pants came off in one single tug, and my underwear with it, and then Joshuach’s leatherpants were between my legs. I hissed at the sudden coolness, and Joshuach smirked. 

“There, was that really so hard?” he asked, pulled the cock ring off and gave me one, sharp tug. I came undone, rocking my hips with each spurt of semen erupting from my penis, stars shooting behind my eyes. I couldn’t keep them open, just felt Joshuach’s lips on my chest again, nipping, never grazing skin, just spreading the poison. Licking my wounds.  
I just stood there a good while after, gulping in big lungfuls of air. Joshuach was still too close, still pushing his leg between mine, holding me spread apart. 

“The fuck…?” I finally managed. 

“Sorry, we’re not done yet,” he whispered in my ear. I could still feel the vampire poison flooding my veins, every heartbeat sending it straight to my groin. I was already getting hard again. He loosened the cuffs enough so that my arms weren’t spread out anymore, and turned me around. 

“Really, now?” 

“Hmm,” he purred against my ear, and before I could so much as think about protesting, he shoved two fingers up my ass. That hurt. It always would, without any preparation or lube, but I was so far beyond caring that I just went with it. The sting faded when, on the second thrust in, something cool had been added to Joshuach’s fingers. He whispered nonsense in my ear, kissed my neck, stroked my flanks with his free hand and rocked his fingers in an unrelenting, unforgiving rhythm. I was shaking, my hands tightened to fists because I could only stand there, staring unseeing at the wall and ignore the delighted comments of the vampires around us. And I was getting hard again. It didn’t take me long at all to rock back onto Joshuach’s hand, whining when he refused to go harder, faster. A third finger was added, and I felt full, for want of a better word. The pain of the first few thrusts had all but faded, mixing with pleasure now. I was shaking again, aching to touch myself but couldn’t. 

“Inhale,” Joshuach commanded, and I obeyed without second thought. His fingers left me but for a second, then something bigger nudged at my entrance. “Now, exhale.” When all breath had left my lungs, Joshuach pushed in. I gasped, breath refusing to come, shock running up my spine at the intrusion. 

“F-cking …” I yelped, and tensed when he was fully inside me. Holy cow, that had hurt. And it didn’t exactly get better when he started moving. Every push was deep, made me brace my fists against the wall in order to not hit my face against it every time. I stood on my toes, just taking it, going with the rhythm, sweat pooling in my neck. “Ow, ow, ow…” 

“Shhh,” Joshuach soothed and reached around me. His cool fingers wrapped around my flagging penis and pulled, sharply, each time he pushed in now. There was nothing I could do to fight it, to fight him. And soon, I didn’t want to, anymore. It just hurt. I felt tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. Every push in made me tense further. “Fuck. You’re too tight. Relax, Máedóc,” Joshuach pressed out. He took one of my legs and pulled it up, just slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly he hit something inside me that made me see stars. 

“Okay,” I breathed, “do that again.” He did, again, again and again, and suddenly I couldn’t stop moaning and rocking back onto his hard cock stretching me open. Joshuach picked the rhythm up, matching it to the loud, deafening music, and moaned and growled into my ear with each movement I made. In seconds, I was hard again. My breath came in pants; just feeling what he was doing to me undid me. Feeling what my body made him feel. I was shaking, pleasure and arousal mixed to a tight ball between my balls. Joshuach held my penis in an iron grip, working it until I didn’t know which way to move anymore. Incoherent noises fell from my lips, interspersed with moans and “please, please”s. His balls slapped against my ass with each movement, each time he touched that spot inside me my inner walls tightened around him until I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. The grip on my cock tightened, preventing me from coming, and the pain just heightened the sensation. 

“Josh-uach…!” 

“Not before I’ve gotten another bite…” And he bit me a third time, right in the juncture of neck and shoulder, he filled me to the brim, and then Joshuach came. Hot semen filled me, and the sensation of Joshuach losing it was enough to push me over the edge, too. I came with a shout, tensing up tightly until I just couldn’t anymore. 

~

I opened my eyes. 

“We are so not doing that again,” I told Joshuach and Conrad. 

“Oh, come on, Maddock, you liked it!” Conrad looked pointedly at the semen splattered across my chest. 

“Somehow,” Joshuach said slowly, “I don’t think this was what the old geezer had in mind when he said ‘Practice your thralls’.” But he was grinning broadly, and I just didn’t have the energy to feel upset. Neither did Joshuach, apparently. Conrad grinned at the both of us, looking unbearably smug. 

“But did I have to be a vampire? What books have you been reading? They’re actually really gross.” I nodded in agreement. 

“And why dress yourself as the bad guy? Also, you wouldn’t really kill Fynn, would you?” The otter in question thrilled his annoyance when I petted his head. 

“Never,” Conrad said solemnly. “But I needed a reason to make it more intense. And hatred works best.” 

“Next time, you bottom,” I hissed. “My butt hurts, and I haven’t even had any sex yet!” Conrad shrugged and moved as if to straddle my legs. 

“That can be arranged- ” 

“What. Is going on here?” We jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Our archdruid looked, for lack of a better word, traumatized. 

“Erm,” I said, smartly.

“We were practicing thralls,” Joshuach chimed and ruffled Conrad’s raven’s feathers. My robin, who had been a “gryphinx” in Conrad’s… thrall, landed on my shoulder.

“Right. Next time practice them somewhere I don’t have to hear Méadóc shout “yes, please, more, Joshuach”. Think of the animals.”


End file.
